Word Count: 880

Summary: People always say they don't remember a thing. Truth is, though, they do.

Rating: T

I Don't Remember (1)

They'd finally caught him, and he didn't remember a thing. The bang-baby had possessed him for three days, and he didn't remember a thing. What in heavens name were they supposed to do now? Haunter could be anyone, could be anywhere. He was probably already in someone else's body, planning to commit some terrible crime, and they're only lead, this son-of-a-gun, couldn't remember a thing.

Virgil checked himself. It wasn't the guy's fault. This was the victim. Haunter had hijacked his body, stuck him in the back seat of his own life. If he didn't remember, then he didn't remember.

Still, Virgil couldn't help the way his heart drummed in his ears. Haunter wasn't just some hoodlum. He was seriously whacked, and all Virgil's superhero-senses were telling him to stop the bang baby right now. Virgil was desperate; innocent people were getting caught in the crossfire, and their one and only hope had run dry.

Virgil slapped the thought away. They always had hope.

Already turned around, ready to fly off and scour the city (although for what he couldn't say), Virgil saw Richie pause, cast a wary glance at Virgil, and then take three steady steps toward the man. Virgil slowly turned back to examine his friend, feeling inexplicably nervous, one of those gut-feelings Richie always mocked yet respected him for.

"You know," Richie started, his voice uncharacteristically shaken, "people always say they don't remember a thing. It's easier that way. If you don't remember, then you don't have to deal. Maybe it can be like it didn't happen at all."

Richie swallowed. "The truth is that they do remember. Maybe not all of it, and that makes the lies feel more real. Hell, maybe you can even convince yourself for a little while that you really don't remember any of it, but that never lasts. It comes back, it always will, to haunt you in ways you don't want to imagine. The memories won't go away, no matter how many times you say you don't remember a thing."

Richie hadn't glanced back at Virgil since he'd started talking, staring unfailingly into the man's eyes. At first Virgil had wanted to see his best friend's eyes, to try to read the emotion in them, but the more Richie spoke, the more Virgil feared that he already knew what Richie was thinking about. Maybe he didn't want to see, after all.

"You were trapped. You watched him do terrible things, and you couldn't stop it long enough to warn somebody. You know it wasn't your fault, but that doesn't make it hurt less because you had no control. You had started to loose hope that you'd ever lift your own arm again, and now that you've got your body back, you're not taking any chances. If remembering brings him back, if there's even the smallest possibility, then you won't do it. The stakes are too high.

"I know you're scared, Jacob.-" Becker, Virgil remembered dimly. Jacob Becker was his name. "-You can still feel him in you. You keep thinking what he would have done, what he would have said. You're afraid and hurt, and you just want it all to be behind you. I hate to break it to you, though, but this won't just go away. You can keep pushing it down for years if you want, but it only gets worse. Every second you cringe back from the memories, every second your heart beats a little faster because of him is another second he's beaten you."

Richie's shoulders were squared. He looked like a soldier marching off to battle, not the goofy teen Virgil knew so well. "There's a way you can fight, a way you can stand up to him. Help us catch him. You know who he is. You probably know where he'll strike next. All we're asking is that you take control. Don't let him win anymore; he doesn't deserve it."

Jacob looked at Richie in utter silence, watching him for what felt like hours, and Virgil noticed for the first time how unnerved he looked. Virgil had been so focused on catching bang-baby, he'd barely seen the victim.

Finally, with the silence heavy enough to drown a man, he spoke, voice enough to make Richie's sound firm. "I couldn't stop him. He has a plan, an awful plan. He wants to break into Alva industries, to steal something. I think he wants to kill people with it. Lots of people. He was going to go to a woman named Cecily. She works for Alva, has a pass key to get in. She's tall, brunette, and middle-aged, has two kids, Brian and Jen. He doesn't care about them, though. He's going to use her up, like he used me." The man's eyes collapsed to the ground. "That's all I know."

Richie put his hand on the guy's shoulder, actually reached out and touched him. "Thank you."

Virgil was still staring like an idiot when he realized that Richie had already flown off. He cleared his throat, trying to sound authoritative, and said, "Um, yes, thank you for your help. Must be going now. Villains to catch and all. Crime to stop."

He flew away quickly to keep himself from blubbering any more nonsense.